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Click Clack
"Click Clack" is the eight track on Nicki Minaj's first mixtape, Playtime Is Over. The recording is an original rap over the beat of "Click Clack" by Slim Thug and Pusha T. Music video The video contains scenes of bikers rearing up and doing tricks with their bikes. Nicki Minaj is seen in a car or by one, or on a motorbike. By the end of the video, Nicki flips off the camera. Lyrics Chorus A lot of rap niggas be tryna play hard I was taught to only reach for the heat if you bustin' So when I lift the shirt, that's the end of discussion Click clacks motherfuckers, I ain't tryna hear nothing 1 They call me Nicholas, style defined as ridiculous. I beg your pardon, meet me at the garden Number one draft, I'm New York's pick And I don't lose like them dudes on the New York Knicks (check it) I'm overseas rockin hella capris In the West Indies eatin delicacies I tell 'em They want Kane like Erica, please Brother, your money young like that nigga Jeezy These broke rappers always rappin' 'bout a pink truck I'm only happy when I hopin out the brinks truck And I don't need a 16, I got a sentence I goes on a fucker like an entrance These old bitches betta change they dentures When I get in the game, they gonna play the benches Fuck your friendship, pay attention Bitch get at me, I'mma pay my henchmen Chorus A lot of rap niggas be tryna play hard I was tought to only reach for the heat if you bustin' So when I lift the shirt, that's the end of discussion Click clacks motherfuckers, I ain't tryna hear nothing 2 They call me Maraj, fuck you and fuck your squad Head bitch in charge, I ain't talkin' 'bout the dodge I'm on the other line and I ain't talkin' 'bout call waitin' I'm VIP lil mama, I just walk straight in Lil Dolce & Gabbana got this whore hatin' That's why I pop up in the Porsche with the top vacant Mami stop fakin', talkin' bout what you got You ain't got nothin' and your not caking You're not my taste, get outta my face I play the top like eight friends on your Myspace Stay in a child's place, check the timin' I rock bitches like they throwin' up the diamond (It's the Roc!) Get on a flight, I be bakin' on islands. Mami, your accent sound faker than Dylan. Murder them? Murder them Fuck a competition, already murder them. Chorus A lot of rap niggas be tryna play hard I was tought to only reach for the heat if you bustin' So when I lift the shirt, that's the end of discussion Click clacks motherfuckers, I ain't tryna hear nothing 3 They call me Nicki M., hard to find me in a sticky bin I play the club with a thug and some pretty friends And if they ain't got the gat, they got the knife on You're too whack to get up on one of my songs You got a deal 'cause you was givin up the cuchi prolly But I'll arrange one hit like Oochie Wallie And you'll be gone to November like Wyclef I hold weight and I ain't talkin' 'bout biceps I rep Queens like a crown, when I'm in the town Ask Yung Joc, it's goin' down Kisses to my bitches and my niggas, getta pound June, turn me up, mic check, how I sound? Bitches don't know the half like they flunked that math Give a fuck about a bitch and the clique she with Unless you doin' them numbers like arithmetic Young Nic, holla back and turn up my shit Chorus A lot of rap niggas be tryna play hard I was tought to only reach for the heat if you bustin' So when I lift the shirt, that's the end of discussion Click clacks motherfuckers, I ain't tryna hear nothing Category:Songs Category:Cover songs Category:Videos Category:Playtime Is Over Category:2007